


Chest Pains - Part 2

by Svn_f1ower



Series: Commissions [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Heart Attacks, Hurt Peter Parker, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 22:42:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19777957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Svn_f1ower/pseuds/Svn_f1ower
Summary: “Yeah, I’ll ease up a bit – okay?” Peter said seriously, looking at Tony and feeling a twinge of guilt in his stomach as he pictured the frightened look on the man’s face as he stumbled from the suit as Peter’s legs gave out. “I don’t want you worrying too.”





	Chest Pains - Part 2

**Author's Note:**

> Ah! My second commission <3 I'm so excited to share this!
> 
> My tumblr is agib-2002 - feel free to message, leave asks, etc.
> 
> <3

Peter had been dreaming of something fuzzy, but the remnants of sleep weren’t kind, he couldn’t recall anything. Because now, he was uncurling an arm from beneath the warm sheets of his bed and tilting the alarm clock, so it adjusted to his sleep crusted eyes. It was six thirty-two in the morning and his phone wouldn’t stop buzzing from his bedside table. His chest was tight, but he rolled over to blindly jab at his phone screen anyway.

“ _Nngh_ ,” he groaned, displeased at the rude awakening. His exposed fingers lazily trailed across the surface of the table before he managed to swipe off what he believed to be an alarm he had forgot to turn off the night before.

“Hey kid.”

Oh. _Apparently not an alarm, then_.

Peter jolted upward in bed, trying to feign wakefulness and competence when his brain was still scrambled from sleep. _Surely Mr. Stark knew nobody normal was up this early_. As soon as the blankets fell away from where they had been delightfully tucked beneath his chin, Peter shivered in the cool air.

“Shit,” he hissed icily. He needed to start sleeping with a shirt on.

“Well, morning to you too,” Tony quipped through the phone line. Peter rubbed the heel of his palm across one eye and apologised blearily.

“Sorry, Mr. St’rk. I uh – didn’t… wasn’t expecting a call.” He winced, “I mean, I thought you were my alarm?” He heard a breathless chuckle over some background static before Tony replied.

“All good – hey, you mind webbing your way out to North-East Brooklyn for me – well, us?” Tony sounded out of breath, and there was lots of background noise, Peter realised, not static. There was the unmistakable crackle of the comm line, metal clashing and some repulsor blasts, presumably from Tony’s suit.

“Us? As in – you mean the whole _team_?!” Peter squeaked excitedly, perking up and momentarily forgetting about the unpleasant chill in the air. 

“Well, most of the team,” Tony answered. Peter’s heart leapt into his throat. He hadn’t been involved in a battle with anyone else from the team since the airport.

“Y – yeah, totally. Of course – I’m on my way!” He heard an affirmative over the sound of him shoving off the blankets. “What’s your status? Where are you guys at?”

“Uh,” Tony started, “you um – you won’t miss us, kid. I can promise you that much.” _Right_ , Peter thought. If the problem was big enough for Tony to call in Spider-Man, it would probably be difficult to miss.

“Okay, catch you in ten!” Peter said, tugging the suit over his boxers and leaning across his unmade bed to click off the phone call once Tony had given a distracted goodbye. “Hey May?” He called. “I’m going to uh… going to fight crime… see you soon!”

“Be safe! No texting and swinging!” May yelled back. “Tell me if you save anymore bikes!” Peter huffed with a smile on his face as he tugged the mask down with one hand. _Hopefully going to be saving more than bikes this morning_ , he hoped to himself.

“Hey, Karen? Mind blasting the heater for me?” Peter asked as he slipped out the window with a gust of chilled air. _What a way to start the morning_ , he thought bitterly. The sun had only risen a little over an hour ago, the streets were busy with morning commuters and Peter frowned at the idea of having to wake up this early every morning.

“Of course, Peter.” There was a momentary pause, and then the teen sighed as his body flooded with heat from the suit. He hated the cold, ever since the bite it made him sleepier. “Would you like me to locate any suspicious activity for you to begin your patrol?” Karen inquired.

“Uhm, no actually. I’m headed to Brooklyn, Mr. Stark has a mission for me!” He jumped from the fire escape of his apartment complex and hit the edge of the next building over with a web to start his journey. “I think he said North-East Brooklyn, so we’re heading over that way.” Peter’s enhanced hearing was able to pick up a couple clicks of phone cameras as he swung past the more populated sidewalks beside the entrance to the subway. 

About halfway through his trek, Peter gave a half-hearted wave to a news van which was speeding along the same way as him. “I wonder if that’s going to whatever battle Mr. Stark is inviting me to,” he commented to the A.I.

“You say ‘inviting me to’ as if it were an exclusive event, Peter.” Karen replied.

“Well it is, kinda… I mean, how often does Mr. Stark actually bring me out to battles and stuff? It’s totally exclusive. Remember how he tried to get me off the Vulture’s case?” Peter changed direction quickly, hoping to get to his mentor swiftly.

“I remember the Vulture, Peter.” Karen answers as Peter flings himself down the last few streets. “I am picking up reports of strange energy readings and potential threats in the general area you were requested to be at.” Peter didn’t need to be told twice, the hairs on the back of his neck had been prickling uncomfortably for the past two blocks.

“Got it, Karen. I’m almost th – _woah!_ ” He was cut off mid-sentence as a purple-tinted shock wave sent a car hurtling upwards and into a streetlight from up ahead. “Did you see that?!” He cried, rapidly picking up speed until he was able to pull himself up on top of a nearby office building. “So cool,” he mumbled.

The scene beneath him could only really be described as absolute and utter _chaos_. There was a collection of men running around the street, ducking behind cars and fire hydrants. There were heavy looking weapons in their arms that didn’t look like they were from Earth. “More Chitauri tech…” Peter muttered distastefully, “great.” His chest gave a displeased little flutter and the teen winced in response.

The weapons were leaving cracks in the asphalt and deep gashes in the doors of cars caught in the crossfire. Peter made note to steer clear of them unless necessary. There were blasts of blue, green and purple flying all around the street. The thrumming pulses from the weapons gave Peter an instantaneous headache.

He could see Tony hovering around from above, trying to blockade a few of the men into an alley with his repulsor blasts, but he seemed focused on avoiding the weapons firing range by a lot. They must be really damage inducing if even Tony was hovering out of the blast zone. Steve and Rhodey were on the ground, the former being the shield and the latter being fire power. Clint was perched on a fire escape, helping Tony herd a few men into an alley with some explosive arrow tips, and Natasha had already managed to get her hands on one of the guns, using it to hurtle rubble around.

Karen had already auto-logged Peter onto the shared comm line, and he connected to Tony’s output with little trouble. “I’m here, Mr. Stark,” he piped up. “Want me to cover your six?” The boy asked with a grin. He had been picking up on the ‘battle lingo’ as he liked to call it.

“Uh, no – no, mind helping Romanoff out with clearing rubble, kid?” Tony replied, still clearly focused on weaving between blasts of energy from the guns. Peter glanced over to Natasha, squinting for a moment. He should have realised Tony wouldn’t be too eager to throw him into the thicket of things.

“I don’t think you can call what she’s doing ‘clearing…’” Peter saw the Iron Man armour swivel quickly, luckily he turned right as Natasha used a green gun to heave a hunk of twisted metal in front of the alleyway, effectively blocking in all the men Tony and Clint had previously managed to herd like sheep.

“Ah, yep.” Tony sighed. “Thanks, Nat,” he called through the comms before making his way over to the roof where Peter was still perched, awaiting instruction. “Okay, listen up young buck,” Peter wrinkled his nose under his mask with an exaggerated eye roll at the nickname. “We got some more alien tech –” there was a crash in the background as someone fired at the car Natasha had barricaded with – “clearly.”

The suit touched down a few feet away from Peter, the faceplate lifting up enough for Tony to blink down at the kid in front of him. “Green ones are really strong, high energy signatures and super loud. Purple ones are like stunners, so keep clear of them, they’re like electrified punches to the gut.” _That must have been what threw the car up a couple feet_ , Peter thought as Tony ploughed on with his run-down. “And blue ones are what _we_ need to watch for,” he gestured between himself and Peter. “It’s a pulse ray and it’ll take out all your electronic systems, which isn’t ideal for me, but Rogers and Romanoff are trying to sort those out for us.”

The faceplate clicked down again as Peter nodded attentively. “You got it?” Tony asked, lifting back off the roof and hovering above the ground for a moment.

“Yeah, purple guys hurt, green ones are super Hulk-ish, and blue ones are a no-go for me and you… and Mr. Rhodes, and Mr. Barton… and pretty much everyone who uses tech in battle,” Peter trailed off, looking down at his own chest. The emblem glowed in response as Karen kept the heater pumping faithfully. He hoped he could count on that heater.

“Great, stay sharp out there then,” Tony said coolly as his thrusters increased and he began drifting from the edge of the building. “Fall back if I tell you to, no arguments,” he reminded the boy. Peter shrugged in his mentor’s direction before leaping off his perch on the building, using a well-placed web on the Iron Man ankle piece to swing himself across into the thicket of things.

When he landed beside Steve and Rhodey, they barely even looked up to spare a glance. Peter assumed the alien tech and the guys wielding it were giving everyone a hard time. His senses were thrumming dully, similar to how they did in any battlefield, but Peter made sure to stay alert all the same. 

“Hi, Mr. Rogers, Sir!” He said cheerfully, ducking as Rhodey darted in front of Steve to block a green blast. The noise of the shockwave being absorbed by both the vibranium shield and the War Machine armour made Peter’s teeth grind together painfully, setting his bones on edge.

“Web ‘em up, Spidey,” Rhodey called from where he was in the process of pistol whipping one of the men with his own gun. Peter eagerly obliged, hitting the same man with some webs and making sure he was secured to the sidewalk off to the edge of the battle before giving a wonky salute to Rhodey. “Watch it,” was all the warning Peter got before Natasha had thrown a sloppily levitated hunk of fire hydrant into the building three feet away from where him and Rhodey stood. “Easy, Nat! We got a minor running around here,” Rhodey laughed. Peter rolled his eyes fondly under his mask.

“Heads up,” Natasha called. Peter saw her smirk before sending another lump of debris their way. “You got three on your right, Cap,” she said quickly. Peter turned in the same direction as Steve and Rhodey did, ready to web up some more of the men.

The three of them were yelling at each other, aggressively debating over who was shooting when. Peter’s senses hummed dangerously as he heard the distant buzz of the guns charging up. He flicked his wrist outwards and managed to cover the barrel of the weapon in his webs, giving Steve enough time to throw his shield and knock the gun from the man’s arms.

The whining from Rhodey’s repulsors threw the other two men backwards before they could fire their own weapons, and Peter was quick to web the three unmanned weapons to the ground. In his ear, the comm line crackled to life, he heard someone counting off how many men were left with the guns. There were eight of them. Peter hurriedly worked out where everyone was and what they were doing – Clint and Tony were still working on herding the men to the right places from above, Rhodey and Steve were disarming them, and Natasha was blockading the area from civilians with one of the alien weapons. 

“Doing good, kid!” Tony called from overhead, snapping Peter out of his brief lapse in concentration. He gave a wave as his mentor flew overhead, watching as he knocked down another man with a well-aimed repulsor. Peter watched the weapon clatter from the man’s arms and hit the ground. _Everyone’s working in teams of two_ , Peter observed carefully. _Everyone except Miss Romanoff_.

Peter didn’t hesitate as he scooped up the gun, which was much heavier than he had expected, and swung his way over to where the redhead was shifting rubble around. She had time to spare a glace, laughing to herself when she saw the small kid lugging around a gun the size of his torso like it was nothing more than a plastic replica.

“Careful, that green one’s got a lot of recoil,” she warned. Peter nodded an affirmative and steadied himself awkwardly – he’d never held a gun before, let alone an alien one. When he fired experimentally at a heap of upturned brick, the force of it sent him skidding backward a few feet.

“Woah,” he coughed, clenching his fingers tighter around the gun. It wouldn’t be hard to control now that Peter knew what he was dealing with. “I’m gonna move that car over in front of that street sign!” He called to Natasha, his excitement fuelling slightly. The gun pulsed as he manoeuvred the car across the street, it made the hair on his arms stand on edge as his fingers vibrated. Peter distantly worried that the pulses would set his chest pains off.

“Nat, we got one guy headed your way. He doesn’t look happy –” Clint cautioned through the comms, distracting Peter from his worries.

“We’re on it!” He answered rapidly, already feeling his senses picking up as poorly stifled grunting rounded the corner. There was a stocky man carrying his own gun, sending a blast across the road and forcing Natasha to roll behind half a collapsed billboard for cover.

“This tech is my entire business – how I keep a roof over my head!” He yelled, opting to swing his gun in front of himself like a shield as Peter sent a flurry of webs in his direction. He managed to block the trigger of the gun somehow, but it resulted in the man sending the gun hurtling into Peter’s own.

There was a loud clash as both the weapons skittered to the floor, drowned out by the sound of Peter’s foot connecting with the man’s ankles, sweeping his feet right out from under him. The man gave a pained “ _oof_ ” as his backside hit the pavement. Unluckily for Peter, the gun he had been holding was only inches away from the man’s meaty hands. His senses gave him enough time to dive out of the way, but he didn’t avoid the sound of the blast hurtling past his left ear.

Peter was stunned for a moment, but not so much that he couldn’t readjust himself as he pulled his body onto its feet again. His ears rung loudly, like the blare of a train horn throttling his skull. He gave an unconvincing thumbs up to Natasha as she threw herself on top of the man only to flip her body weight, throwing him up and backwards onto the sidewalk in a graceful roll.

“You need a minute, Pete?” Tony asked through their one-on-one comm line. His voice was grainy, and Peter winced at the sudden intrusion of sound, but he shook his head and answered anyway.

“No, I’m good. Perfectly fine. Just, forgot how loud those blasts could be.” His display flickered unhelpfully, and Tony’s reply was nothing more than garbled static. “Mr. Stark?” He asked, wincing as he heard the thud of Natasha’s boot colliding with the man’s temple from behind him. “Karen? Did the comm’s go down?”

There was no reply from the A.I, but Peter noted the familiar chill as his suit flickered once more before the heater shut off with a weak, stuttering whirr. “Rude,” Peter muttered to himself as his skin prickled. It was still probably before eight in the morning so the sun hadn’t begun to warm the streets up. He hated the cold more than anything he could think of.

“Did Tony forget to warn you that the blasts from the blue guns knocks down all your suit electronics?” Natasha asked as she wiped her palms on the back of her pants.

“No, I knew,” Peter sighed. Now he had the added stress of knowing nobody had his back without the comm system in place. No taser webs, no Karen in his ear – nothing. “This’ll be fun,” he complained bitterly, laying a hand over his heartbeat and pushing the thought of the dull aching away.

“We’re almost done here anyway,” she said. Peter eyed the rest of the team, they were all busy enough to still be occupied, but not many men were left. Clint was down on the ground now, helping Steve and Rhodey. “Hey, Rhodes –” Natasha said into her earpiece. “Let Tony know the kid’s comms are down.” Peter didn’t have to wait long after that before Tony stopped circling the area from the air and came down to land beside Natasha and the man currently conked out on the sidewalk.

“I warned you,” he laughed as his boots touched the pavement with an audible clank. Peter huffed, stalking over to his two teammates and giving the gun on the ground a half-hearted glare. “I think we’re pretty much ready to call this a wrap,” Tony sighed. His faceplate flicked up and he eyed Peter as he spoke. The kid looked jittery, but he chalked it up to post-battle adrenaline. “How’s everything looking over your side, Capsicle?”

Peter’s hearing was still slightly clouded by the earlier blast, so he couldn’t hear the reply through Tony’s head piece, but he assumed it was an all-clear. He focused back on himself, on the goose bumps still tickling his arms, the distant growl of his senses and the irritating ache in his chest that had only gotten worse since he wasn’t able to distract himself with combat.

“Everything went well over here,” he heard Natasha saying. His hands felt clammy under the material of his suit and he absentmindedly rubbed at his sternum in discomfort as the team rounded up and started talking about calling a crew to retrieve all the guns lying around.

“You sure?” Tony asks, his tone implying as his eyes flickered over to where Peter was shifting from foot to foot. The kid was more than antsy now, acting like a child not wanting to admit they needed to go to the bathroom. “Pete, everything cool?”

“Yeah, course,” Peter replied automatically. There was no point complaining about an ache that nobody could do anything about. “Just bored now that there are no asses to kick,” he said humorously, hoping to diffuse his mentor’s worry.

“Sure,” Tony said, clearly unconvinced. “I can fix you suit up easy, all I need to do is replace th –”

“I know,” Peter interrupted quickly. “Redo the wiring and replace the faulty circuits.” He smiled from beneath the mask. “I can help,” he added. Tony opened his mouth to respond but stopped when he saw the eyes of Peter’s mask dilate before almost closing completely. It was abrupt, but so was Peter’s hand shooting up to grasp at his chest with a pained sound.

“Kid –” Tony began. Peter shook his head frantically, his heartbeat loud and erratic in his own ears.

“M – my chest,” he choked out. Tony hardly had the chance to dart forwards before the tightness swelled to an all-around weight crushing Peter’s breastbone. He let out a whine before his knees buckled completely. The teen barely felt his legs hitting the concrete as the pressure consumed his torso. He felt worse than when the building had collapsed, he was suffocating entirely, his chest stuttering and tightening up as he gave up trying to coach his breathing. 

If Peter had air in his lungs, he would have sworn – _loudly_. His chest felt like it was on fire, the pain had come out of nowhere and the boy would do anything for it to disappear in the same way. He couldn’t even feel Tony’s arms gripping his wrists, everything which wasn’t alight with agony was practically a non-existent numbness to him. Peter wasn’t even aware enough to lie flat on his back like he always did, he was curled on his side, a hand splayed over his heart. Even his teeth hurt. The pain had never spread that far before.

All he knew was pain in that moment. It couldn’t even really be described as such, it just felt like a pressure squeezing around his chest, lungs, neck and heart. Peter imagined it was similar to the feeling of being crushed to death. He wished he was trapped under a building; he’d rather be there than curled up in front of the Avengers with his heart stuttering like a broken boat motor.

Peter squeezed his eyes shut, wishing his body would just give out, so he could succumb to unconsciousness. Everything hurt. He had never known pain like this. A small part of him was guilty for making Tony deal with this, especially with the team huddled around.

\----

Peter had stopped fidgeting, but his hands were balling into fists and Tony could see his legs shaking like he was about to collapse.

“Kid –” he said carefully, talking as if Peter was a cat that would bolt at any moment.

“M – my chest,” the boy croaked, his fingers reaching up to scrabble at his sternum. Tony made the decision to stumble out of his suit, trusting the rest of the team to have his back in case they had missed any more threats. His hands grabbed Peter’s shoulders right as his legs gave way. The boy dropped like a stone, a gargled yelp of pain escaping him as Tony tried his best to lay him flat on the floor.

“Stop scratching,” Tony instructed, his voice hard from the pulse of fear shooting through his veins. _Mask_ , he thought, _get his mask off_. “Pete, I know it hurts,” he babbled, slipping the kid’s mask off. Sweaty ringlets bounced around the boy’s temples as he groaned again. Tony was met with a sheet of pale white skin; it gave an almost translucent effect as Peter’s veins throbbed each time he shuddered with another ripple of pain. “But you need to breathe, alright?” His hands tightened over the boy’s wrists, squeezing partly to get through to him but also to ground himself. _This wasn’t how Peter Parker went out_.

“Shit, what happened?” Someone asked frantically. It could have been Steve, maybe Clint.

“Was he hit? Do we need medical –” Rhodey began.

Tony hissed as Peter’s knee jerked up into his side, leaving a bruise in its wake, but he let the boy curl up gingerly on one side. Rhodey was crouching down, trying to figure out where Peter had been hit while he ordered FRIDAY to send out Tony’s medical team. 

He could feel tremors rumbling through Peter’s chest and arms as he tried to help in any way he could, laying his palms flat over the kid’s shoulders. Everyone was cursing and looking for singes in the kid’s suit, expecting him to have been hit with the alien tech.

“No – no, he wasn’t hit!” Tony snapped, rolling Peter back over and throwing a hand under the base of his skull in case he started cracking his head against the ground. “The med team – tell them I need, uh – the…” he glanced down at Peter, biting the inside of his cheek as if it would solve all his problems. “Glyceryl trinitrate – those pills. Rhodey, please.” Peter made a noise of pain from beneath him. “I know what he needs,” Tony explained.

“Heart failure medication?” Natasha asked incredulously – of course she knew what every medication in the world was used for. Tony turned back to Peter, still mumbling things about his breathing, trying to keep him from hurting himself. “Tony, does he have heart problems?” She pressed harshly. Tony turned to look up at her and the rest of the team who seemed to be rendered speechless.

“Yeah,” he croaked out, his voice crackling unhelpfully. “But it’s never been this bad – he never… I’ve never seen it like _this_ before now.” Tony turned back to face Peter, who was still trying to curl back on his side into fetal position. He could see light reflecting off the boy’s eyes, and it took a moment to register the wetness of his cheeks. “Shit, Pete –” he babbled helplessly, losing a bit more grip on the situation at hand when he realised the kid was trying to hide his tears.

“They’re ten minutes out, Tones. The kid’s gonna be okay,” Rhodey said calmly. His faceplate was up, his body bent at the knee as he rested one hand on Tony’s shoulder.

“He’s _hurting_ ,” Tony forced out between grit teeth, still glaring at the tear tracks carving their way down Peter’s face. He shrugged off Rhodey’s hand and tried tugging Peter’s upper arms, shifting him enough that he could slip his arms beneath the boy’s head. “Pete, I know it hurts – damnit, but you have to breathe. Please.” He pushed back a few strands of hair that were stuck to Peter’s forehead and pulled him closer, nestling the teen’s head into his own lap.

“Too – t’ heavy,” Peter hissed. One of his hands pressed down over his heart before Tony caught it and squeezed tightly.

“I know,” he lied. In all honesty, Tony didn’t know anything aside from what his research had told him, about how it felt like being crushed by a weight that couldn’t be lifted. “It’s almost over,” he promised. “Breathe for me,” he instructed, tightening his grip on Peter’s hand. The boy made a pained ‘ _nu-uh_ ’ noise, ever the stubborn reflection of his mentor. “Yeah – yes you will, kid,” Tony bit back, “that’s an order.”

Peter’s face crinkled as he opened his lips and sucked in with several small stutters. “There you go,” Tony coaxed, pushing back more hair from Peter’s forehead. “Rhodes, what’s the ETA on that med team?” He asked, not bothering to turn away from where Peter was still struggling to intake enough oxygen through the spasms of his chest.

“Any minute now,” Rhodey answered.

“Thank God,” Tony muttered. “Okay, when the team gets here, I’m gonna have to sit you up, kid.” Peter made a noise in his throat, similar to a petulant whine. “You’re gonna have to dissolve some medication under your tongue which’ll calm everything down. Trust me on this.”

“Ok’y,” Peter huffed, his hand instinctively tensing as another spark of pain fluttered through his torso. Tony grunted as he felt the brunt of Peter’s spider-strength crushing down on his hand, but he didn’t dare pull away from the boy. “G’t me up now,” he groaned. Tony could feel Peter shifting around, trying to sit himself up.

“Woah, easy,” he said, trying to ignore how much he sounded like he was calming a jumpy animal. “Could be a few minutes till the team shows up, so just –”

“I c’n hear them now,” Peter grumbled. Tony gave a curt nod, sometimes he forgot the fact that the kid could hear almost four times better than he could. Peter could almost definitely hear sirens from blocks away.

“Don’t move the barricades, just get the glyceryl trinitrate off them. Kid’s still got a secret identity,” Tony ordered as a few members of the team filtered back to where the ambulance was likely to pull up. With the privacy they now had, Tony turned to look Peter in the eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me something was up?” Peter wilted slightly under the harsh gaze.

“I… I didn’t know –” he looked down, wincing as he pressed his palms against the asphalt to sit himself back up. His elbows wobbled dangerously, and Tony reached back out to steady him. “I didn’t get any warning, it just kinda… y – yeah.” Peter let out a shaky breath, lifting one arm and wiping at his damp cheeks like he was angry at himself for crying.

“Hey,” Tony said, his hand tightening comfortingly. “You’re allowed to be upset; you don’t have t –”

“Hey Tony! I got two capsules, because of the increased metabolism.” Steve knelt down beside the two, holding out a small container. “They said take them half an hour apart if one doesn’t do enough, but I figured…” he trailed off into a shrug, sensing he had interrupted something. Peter was looking down at his chest and Tony’s hand lifted from his shoulder, taking the container with a grateful nod in Steve’s direction.

“Thanks, Cap.” Steve stood, taking Tony’s gratitude as his cue to go. He looked back to see Tony resting a hand back on Peter’s shoulder, saying something about steadying his breathing and then slipping the two pills into his hands. _They’d be alright _.__

__

__“Okay so you know don’t swallow it, just let them dissolve under your tongue,” Tony repeated. Peter nodded, relaxing slightly as the sweetness flooded under his lips._ _

__

__“I didn’t mean to worry you,” he admitted, rubbing his chest out of habit. Tony nodded in understanding, still watching Peter’s chest rise and fall somewhat more evenly. “I don’t know what triggered it, a – and it hasn’t been this bad before. The only other time was on patrol with Wade and it went away on its own after like, ten minutes.”_ _

__

__“What’ve I said about patrolling with mercenaries, kid?” Tony asked, his tone too light to be accusing. “Hopefully this one will clear up a few minutes after those pills have dissolved, then we can get you back to the lab, fix up the suit, do another check just to make sure the plaque isn’t getting worse.” They were silent for a moment, Peter focused on the sensation of the pill dissolving in his mouth and forcibly ignored the lingering twinges of pain that stabbed his torso like pitch forks._ _

__

__Tony kept a wary eye on the kid, even after ten minutes since he had flinched. The pills seemed to have done their job, and he hoped FRIDAY could clear up what might have triggered the attack once they were back at the lab. “Just let me know when you’re good to go,” he reminded Peter._ _

__

__“Now, I’m good – I can come now.” He thankfully didn’t wince as he sat fully upright, but he did as he straightened his legs out and stood. “I just need my mask then I’ll be good to meet you out at the tower.” Tony scoffed loudly._ _

__

__“Yeah, like I’m about to let you swing your way to the tower.” He laughed bitterly, steering Peter forward with one arm around his shoulders. “Happy’s parked a block away. Put your mask on, we’re going for a stroll to the car.” Peter watched as Tony slid a pair of glasses over his eyes, giving a distracted wave to the rest of the team who were talking to what looked like the clean-up crew. “You’re crazy if you think I was about to just let you web your way around town like you didn’t just have what one may call a heart at –”_ _

__

__“It was _not_ a heart attack, Mr. Stark,” Peter insisted. Tony quirked an eyebrow as if to say _yeah, well what would you call it, then?_ Peter huffed indignantly as the pair wove through a few piles of tedious rubble, he tugged his mask on as he answered. “I’m pretty sure the medical term is microvascular angina.”_ _

__

__“I knew that,” Tony jabbed._ _

__

__“It’s rare but it happens sometimes. It could have been the cold, or maybe stress, I don’t really know for sure.” Peter shrugged, fiddling with his mask as the lenses dilated to the right adjustment. “I doubt we’ll ever know. It just happens sometimes, granted it’s not normally that bad but I guess its just something to deal with.” Tony walked alongside him stiffly, his jaw clenched._ _

__

__“You shouldn’t have to just ‘deal with it’ like it’s nothing,” he said tautly as they rounded a corner. True to his word, Happy was parked a few yards away, leant against the boot of the car looking torn between disgruntled and concerned. “Because I mean,” Tony pulled off the glasses and slid them into his pocket, “it’s not just _nothing_.”_ _

__

__“Boss,” Happy greeted, opening the door. Tony slipped into the backseat with a greeting of his own. “Kid.”_ _

__

__“Hey Hap,” Peter murmured, climbing in after Tony. If Happy didn’t know any better, he would say the boy sounded tired, out of it._ _

__

__Tony had his back to the widow when Peter settled in, finally tugging his mask back off. He looked ready to throw money at every doctor in the state as he watched Peter rubbing his chest again. “I know it isn’t nothing,” Peter said quietly. The car rolled out of park as Happy pulled into the empty street. “But it also isn’t really something I can always control, so as much as I’d like to… sometimes there just isn’t anything I can do except keep up regular doctor visits, which don’t always do much. Y’know?”_ _

__

__Tony sighed, his back slumping against the plush seating of the car. He nodded in understanding, his lips pulled tight and pressed together in thought._ _

__

__“There’s something I can do, I’m sure.” Tony rubbed the back of his neck, his fingers thrumming against the lip of the door handle. “Something to do with your heartrate maybe, something to monitor it, see when you’re getting in a dangerous zone.” Peter laughed, relaxing back into his own seat._ _

__

__“Yeah, sure okay. As if my heart rate isn’t all over the place.”_ _

__

__“Your job is to chill out, kid. You are way more stressed than you should be.” Tony wagged a finger at him accusingly, Peter held his hands up to feign innocence. He knew his mentor was right, with school, patrol and the internship, he was being stretched in too many directions at once. “Relax more, personal life comes first. I’ll start enforcing a bedtime,” Tony joked._ _

__

__“Yeah, I’ll ease up a bit – okay?” Peter said seriously, looking at Tony and feeling a twinge of guilt in his stomach as he pictured the frightened look on the man’s face as he stumbled from the suit as Peter’s legs gave out. “I don’t want you worrying too.”_ _

__

__“See?” Tony huffed, a smirk on his face. “There you go again – worrying about something you don’t have to fret over.” Peter bit the inside of his lip, shrugging uncomfortably._ _

__

__“Yeah, but you worry too. I shouldn’t be another reason for you to str –”_ _

__

__“Pete,” Tony cut him off, shifting in his seat. He put a hand on the boy’s knee, grounding him. “I’m allowed to worry about people I care for, alright?” He levelled the teen with a sincere look in his eyes. “You know I care about you, yeah?” Peter nodded twice, still unsure. He knew Tony cared, it was obvious, but he had never really heard the man express that fact outright._ _

__

__“I know,” he muttered, feeling smaller than usual. Tony seemed to accept the answer, and he leaned back, breaking the contact._ _

__

__“Good,” he sighed. “Now don’t forget it.”_ _

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


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